Drunken Clarity
by flourchildwrites
Summary: Maes Hughes heartily shook his head. "You're getting a reputation, Mustang. One you might not deserve in the end. Idealistic guys like you don't go through women left and right because they can't find someone to settle down with." "Then why do 'idealistic guys like me' go through women, oh perceptive one," Roy asked with braggadocio. Read to find out! Short one-shot.


**A/N: Just an old-ish piece of Royai fluff from my vault, cross-posted from AO3. Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially comments of a constructive nature.**

Neither Maes Hughes nor Roy Mustang had set out to drink the town dry. When they left the barracks with a dozen or so cadets, it had been for a simple celebratory drink. Graduating from Amestris' military academy was no small feat, and though they had, in their latter year, made the climb look easy, it hadn't been smooth sailing, especially for Roy.

So when Maes suggested that their bottle of bubbly was a prelude for something stronger, Mustang eagerly agreed. One more night in the barracks, a few mere hours as cadets, that was all that remained. Why not make the most of it?

Why not, indeed?

Hughes led the charge from watering hole to watering hole with the charisma of a brigadier general and the judgment of a desperate alcoholic. They ended up at Miss Mary's, an infamous hole in the wall that didn't know the meaning of the word "closed." From the tacky residue on the bar to the cobwebs nestled comfortably in every corner, Miss Mary's was the kind of place where grubby and old-fashioned were compliments, not complaints.

Maes and Roy toasted their academic achievements, marveling at the lasting quality of their unlikely friendship. Mustang congratulated his comrade on his advantageous posting while Hughes encouraged his drinking buddy to demand the secrets of flame alchemy from his former master, bastard that he was. But when Maes began to wax poetic about his girlfriend, it was time to leave.

"She's the one," swooned an inebriated Maes as he slid sloppily from his bar stool. Mustang haphazardly chucked what cenz he had on the bar and clumsily supported his classmate as they stumbled through the threshold of the neighborhood drive. No doubt the locals were glad to see them go.

"Yeah," Mustang grunted, annoyed by the oppressive optimism of his bunkmate. "And just which 'one' would that be? The one to meet your parents? The one to warm your sheets? There are so many 'ones' to choose from."

"Noooo," sighed Maes taking a swig from the whiskey bottle still clasped in his left hand. "She's… Mrs. Hughes." Maes gave his buddy an exaggerated knowing look and waved his bottle in the air, sloshing cheap whiskey down his military fatigues.

"Oh come now," retorted Mustang as he lowered his drunken friend onto the nearest bench. "I've met your mother. She's nowhere near that bad."

Hughes paused for a moment as he analyzed his friend's sarcastic remark. Then, he laughed, slumping his shoulders forward. Roy smirked with relief. The young alchemist had a tendency to simply go too far on occasion, especially when he'd been drinking.

Mustang slid next to Hughes on the bench and nodded to acknowledge to a few passing classmates. The blue-blackness of the evening sky retreated as the first crimson rays of the sun cut across the horizon. Three years ago, Roy had doubted that this day would come, and now, his mind focused on his next labor with unrelenting ambition.

"You just don't see it, do you Mustang?" Maes said.

Roy's wandering thoughts snapped back to their previous conversation, the one about Hughes' new girlfriend. Though he was loath to admit it, Mustang was envious of Maes. The grades, the job and now the girl… The stars had aligned all too well for the up and coming cadet. There had to be a fly in the ointment.

"I see that Gracia is young, pretty and interested in you," Roy said. His voice attempted to douse cold water on Hughes' enthusiasm. "But it's only been two dates, Hughes. How could you possibly know after only two dates?"

"I just do," Maes said warmly, smiling into the cold night. "And what about you, my ambitious friend. Whatever happened to… Traci, that automail apprentice."

Roy smiled contentedly. "Like you said, pal. Two dates was all I needed."

Maes rose unsteadily from the bench, heartily shaking his head. "You're getting a reputation, Mustang. One you might not deserve in the end. Idealistic guys like you don't go through women left and right because they can't find someone to settle down with."

Unsurprisingly, Maes stumbled as he rose from the bench. Mustang quickly braced his friend, again carrying the weight of his comrade.

"Then why do 'idealistic guys like me' go through women? I'm just having a good time, not looking to settle down like you, oh perceptive one," Roy responded with braggadocio.

"Because you already found someone and you don't think you deserve her… or you can't have her. It's one of those two, lover boy," Maes said with frank clarity. He took a last swig of whiskey before purposely handing the bottle to Roy with a grin. "You need this more than I do."

Roy gingerly received the bottle, looking toward it with a perturbed expression. Hughes was many things, class clown, teacher's pet and lazy genius, all rolled into an unassuming package. To the best of Mustang's knowledge, he wasn't a fortune teller.

Although, when it came to Maes Hughes, Roy knew better than to underestimate him.

"What are you, the love alchemist?" Mustang retorted with the smirk that belied the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, the one that conjured up images of his master's daughter. He always saw her in his mind's eye as she had appeared on the morning of her fourteenth birthday. The ends of her blond hair were dark and damp at the nape of her neck; the back-lit silhouette of her legs had been visible through her simple white skirt. Seventeen-year-old Roy hadn't known what hit him.

"Oh no," Hughes said with a knowing smile. "I'm just a guy who found a few unsent letters to Riza Hawkeye in your sock drawer. Now giddy up, Mustang. To the barracks!"

Roy's fist twitched with an awful urge to clock Maes seven ways to Sunday, and Mustang bitterly reminded himself that slugging his inebriated bunkmate right before graduation was bad form.

Ever the gentleman, he would wait until after the pomp and circumstance.


End file.
